


Fuel

by TheFredtoherGeorge



Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 06:17:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5901532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFredtoherGeorge/pseuds/TheFredtoherGeorge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Furiosa needs a little help with something and enlists Max's assistance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fuel

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize.  
> My friend and I got into this discussion about Furiosa having a gasoline-powered vibrator (don’t ask). The conversation devolved from there until both of us were crying with laughter and spawned the plot bunny which then grew into this silly, highly inappropriate bit of fiction.  
> We are horrible people.  
> Enjoy at your own risk.

“Vmmmmmmmmm, pft-pft, mmm, pft, mmnnrrruh”

“FUCK!”

Of all the moments to run out of guzzoline. She dropped the now useless machine and threw her arm across her face. The tension that had been building so deliciously a moment ago fizzled slightly but would not abate. She squirmed, frustrated.

She could try finishing by hand, of course. Like ditching a broken down rig to walk through the Wasteland on foot, however, it would take far longer than she preferred. This was no leisurely cruise taken for the sheer pleasure of driving. She had a mission and it needed completing before her attention was demanded elsewhere.

With a resigned sigh, she wriggled into her pants and fastened the waist with practiced fingers. Not bothering with her mechanical arm, she grabbed the small gas container that she kept for personal use and headed down toward the garages.

He was there, of course.

He’d showed up that morning, rolling into the Citadel in his rusty, banged-up machine. It was sporting a few new dents and making some dubious noises, but he’d brought gifts of salvaged parts and scrap metal to trade for the repair pieces he needed.

She stopped when she saw him. Shirtless, he was bent over the open engine bay, wrenching at something she couldn’t see. Her eyes travelled over the rippling muscle in his shoulder, down his back and settled on the curve of his firm ass. She bit down on her lip as her muscles clenched involuntarily and a shiver ran through her.

Damn him. Damn his ass and his torso and his fucking delectable mouth. She was a leader, for fucks sake, the liberator of her people. She’d overthrown Immortan’s regime and helped to build a city where people thrived and community flourished. She made decisions every day that affected the lives of thousands.

Yet here she was, reduced to a quivering puddle of hormones at the mere sight of the Wasteland Wanderer.

The gas can made a clattering sound when she dropped it, startling him. He jumped back, instinctively holding the wrench out like a weapon. She held up her hand, allowing him a moment to process that he was in no danger before moving toward him.

“Just me,” she murmured. He relaxed, something resembling a smile flitting briefly across his features. She approached slowly, stopping only when mere centimeters remained between them.

“I’ve got a job that needs finishing,” she spoke softly. “Maybe you can help.”

A questioning wrinkle appeared between his eyebrows and his head tilted, puppy-like, to one side. She raised her hand and placed it against his bare chest, softly at first before she pushed him firmly back against the car. His eyes widened and his knees buckled as they made contact with the metal and he was forced into a semi-seated position. Leaning into him, she drew one leg up, resting her foot on the bumper, her thigh pressed against his side.

Here, she paused, watching him. She could make her intentions no clearer than this. What happened next would be up to him.

His breath was short, panicky, betraying the fight or flight instinct that was so automatic to him in any unfamiliar situation. She waited, watching his eyes dart from her face to their bodies to the car and then around the cavern before coming to rest back on her. Gradually, his confusion gave way to an even baser, more animal instinct and he tilted his head, brushing his lips against hers experimentally.

Taking this as an acceptance to her invitation, she pressed into him, capturing his lips with her own and kissing him hungrily. As they broke apart, she bit down gently on his plump lower lip, eliciting a grunt of surprise.

Her eyes drifted down his neck to his naked chest. There was a scar just a little above his sternum, so she kissed it, trailing her lips and tongue from there along his collarbone until she reached his shoulder, where she grazed his skin with her teeth. She could see the pulse jumping at the base of his neck, so she kissed that as well, sucking gently as she did so.

Now they were both short of breath. Her hand slid up around his neck and she wove her fingers into his hair, gripping firmly as she kissed him again. As if only just now deciding what to do with his hands, he grasped her hips and lifted her off the ground slightly, bearing all of her weight against his own body and the car. She brought her other foot up to rest on the bumper as well, straddling him as he leaned back against the front of the vehicle.

She didn’t intentionally grind her hips against him, but she was wound so tight at this point that her body more or less acted of its own accord. Fortunately, he was catching up quickly. She could feel his response to her, which only fueled her desire further. The car began to rock as they moved against each other rhythmically.

Like an engine approaching redline, her body keened and hummed. She no longer had the focus to kiss, or suck, or bite, so she rested her face against his shoulder and gave in to the simple, primal urge to thrust. She whimpered as his hands gave her ass a firm squeeze, pushing her over the edge into sweet oblivion.

She was still panting and twitching when her feet dropped to the ground. She kept her arm over his shoulder as she tested her ability to stand. He watched her, wide-eyed and amusingly bewildered, as she gained her footing and walked back toward the entrance.

“I have to go inspect the new gardens,” she explained. “Dag is expecting me.”

She retrieved the gas can and turned back.

“You will not sleep in your car tonight,” she continued, her authoritative tone leaving no room for discussion. “Report to my quarters at sundown.”

She reached out, handing him the gas can.

“Fill that up and bring it with you.”


End file.
